


just under skin

by preromantics



Category: Glee
Genre: Body Worship, Clothing Kink, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-28
Updated: 2011-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-20 19:57:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Just in case anyone walks by," Blaine says, though he isn't trying to imply anything, except for how he really is. Kurt hums, low, and turns back around without saying anything, which doesn't seem like a bad thing.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	just under skin

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ 5/12/11.

After a brief nod at Burt and Finn, Blaine follows Kurt upstairs, stuffing his hands inside his own pockets as he trails behind, resisting the ridiculous urge to press Kurt up against the wall at the first landing on the stairs. Blaine is almost entirely certain no one in the house wouldn't appreciate finding them on the landing in any position related to the thought he’s currently having. He follows Kurt all the way up and down the hall, watching the tense line of Kurt’s shoulders under his jacket. 

There are so many things Blaine wants to say, wants to reason out loud, and beyond that there are a host of things he’d like to  _do_.

When they reach Kurt's room, Blaine shuts the door behind them both after a moment's hesitation. At the click, Kurt turns from halfway across the room, raising an eyebrow towards Blaine and the door. 

"Just in case anyone walks by," Blaine says, though he isn't trying to imply anything, except for how he really is. Kurt hums, low, and turns back around without saying anything, which doesn't seem like a bad thing.

Blaine settles on the edge of Kurt's bed, watching Kurt adjust the hem on his kilt in the mirror next to the bed and his fingers curl into Kurt's comforter because he can't help it, his throat a little too dry for comfort. 

"So," Kurt says, glancing at Blaine through the mirror. "You don’t like it."

Kurt walks around to the opposite side of the bed, ducking out of Blaine's view for a moment before Blaine can respond, probably to check his angles in the vanity mirror. 

“No,” Blaine says, disagreeing, though he’s not sure where to go from there. He definitely likes Kurt’s outfit. The little flare of anxiousness and a sort of protectiveness that had flared up earlier has mostly dissipated, overwhelmingly replaced by simple appreciation and a little bit of want rolling through his chest.

"I think you should take off the --" Blaine starts, as soon as Kurt steps back around the wall and fully into his room.

Kurt straightens up his shoulders and cuts right over him, though, barely getting out a thin-lipped, "Look, I know it's --"

"The pants," Blaine says, shaking his head and sliding off the edge of the bed so he can stand closer to Kurt. "You should take off the pants underneath and leave the kilt."

Kurt looks briefly down at his legs while Blaine watches, trying to keep his gaze steady and normal. 

"That would throw off the entire look and feel," Kurt says, "not to mention my legs."

Blaine steps forward until he's close enough to reach out and drag his fingers lightly along the edge of Kurt's jacket. "Not for prom," Blaine says, "I mean you should take them off now. For me."

Blaine isn't sure how to explain himself when Kurt gives him a skeptical look. He's not sure how to say,  _fuck, Kurt, I kind of just want to press you up against your bedroom wall and run my hands up your legs and over your thighs, we don't even have to do anything else, just_  -- without either completely freaking Kurt out or break the unspoken non-backseat boundaries they've set.

"You're serious, aren't you," Kurt says. He sounds more fond than anything else, and Blaine figures his chances of Kurt maybe taking off the pants under his kilt aren't that bad. 

"I am," Blaine says, definitely trying for earnest but forgetting not to sound breathless at the same time. 

Kurt shakes his head, once, and rolls his shoulders back. "I have to take the whole thing off, anyway," he says. Blaine waits for him to elaborate, but he doesn't.

It takes a few seconds of Blaine blinking for him to realize that Kurt is turning away, reaching his arms down to get at his pants under the kilt, suddenly fulfilling the only thing Blaine could really think about downstairs as soon as Kurt came into the living room. 

"Wait," Blaine says, raising his hand from Kurt's hip and tugging at his elbow. "Can I just --" 

It's not what Blaine means to do. He means to ask if he can take Kurt's pants off for him, drag them down his thighs and untie his boots and just look, but as soon as Kurt turns and looks right at him, Blaine can't help but move forward and kiss him, that little exhilarating spark of being able to touch and dart forward just because he can lighting up somewhere inside his ribcage, the feeling still just as new as it is comfortable and easy. 

Kurt lets out a little surprised breath against Blaine's lips, almost like a laugh, his hands dropping to Blaine's side, whether to steady himself or because he wants to, maybe because he's picked up on how Blaine likes that, likes Kurt's hands on him, Blaine doesn't know. 

Blaine gets distracted from his objective, getting caught up in Kurt's mouth and in cupping his jaw for the perfect angle, letting out a soft groan and then a louder one when Kurt's teeth drag just lightly below his mouth, along the side of his jaw, something Blaine didn't even know was a thing for him until two weeks ago in the backseat of his car with Kurt straddling his thighs.

"Kurt," Blaine says, because there was something important he was doing before, but it's hard to actually lean away from Kurt now that he has him compliant and hot under his lips and his hands, now that they actually have time to be in Kurt's room with no parents to walk in. 

"You have no idea how you look," Blaine says after a minute, breaking away to get back to how Kurt's pants were about to come off, so Blaine could see how he looked in just his kilt, could maybe run his hands up Kurt's legs and along the soft inside of his thighs and up. Except Blaine only manages to maneuver Kurt back a few steps, up against the wall, tilting his head up just enough to press open-mouthed kisses against Kurt's jaw, dragging his lips back up to Kurt's mouth.

"I have a vague idea of how I look," Kurt says, too late for Blaine to really make sense of his answer, catching Blaine's upper lip between his own. "There's a mirror right behind you."

Blaine groans, rolling his tongue up against Kurt's lips and dragging a hand around to his lower back to press his body forward, pleased when Kurt keeps his shoulders back against the wall but moves forward with just his hips, enough that Blaine can press his thigh between Kurt's legs, the front of the kilt tucking inward. 

Kurt's hands move up to Blaine's arms, running over the exposed skin, his fingers pressing up under the sleeves of Blaine's shirt, and Blaine feels momentarily more justified in his need to see more of Kurt when Kurt drags his hands all the way down Blaine's arms and back up, his nails just lightly moving against Blaine's skin as he hums into Blaine's mouth. Blaine definitely likes the comfort of his blazers and cardigans, but with the warmer weather he's not going to pass up further opportunities to see if his arms really do something for Kurt. 

Blaine finally leans back when Kurt presses off the wall, pushing forward against Blaine like he wants to move, but they can't move because Blaine has plans, sort of, and he kind of wants Kurt right where he is, pressed against the wall opposite the mirror across the room. (It's not that Blaine deliberately thought about the mirror thing -- he hadn't even realized until Kurt mentioned it -- but it's kind of handy. Blaine's had a sort of fantasy spanning at least a month or more of getting himself off involving pressing Kurt up against his chest in front of a mirror and jerking him off, making him watch and see what he did to Blaine and what he looked like, what they looked like together, just --)

"What?" Kurt asks, tugging at Blaine's sleeve, his knuckles hot on the skin of Blaine's upper arm. 

"Can I do it? Instead of you?" Blaine asks, trying to get to his point, the words coming out all at once. 

He opens his mouth to explain further, but Kurt says, "Yes," before he can, his hips rocking forward with the barest of pressure against Blaine's thigh, enough to make him want to drop to his knees and just drag everything Kurt is wearing from the waist down off at once. 

Blaine leans away until he has enough space to maneuver, dragging his hands over Kurt's hips through layers of material before he reaches under the kilt, his hands moving blindly until he gets to the top edge of Kurt's pants underneath. 

Kurt breathes in at the same time Blaine does when Blaine's fingers brush under the waistband and against Kurt's skin. Blaine grins briefly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Kurt's shoulder, glad Kurt doesn't think he's too ridiculous for being so affected by this. 

He presses his lips against the side of Kurt's neck with dry little drags of his mouth as he gets to Kurt's fly, the kilt bunched up between them. He wants to cheat and watch himself drag Kurt's pants down, the kilt bunched up between them, but he doesn't look. He wants to see all at once, wants to see Kurt's legs and then his kilt and then he wants to convince Kurt to let him do -- too many things. 

Kurt's button pops easier than the first time Blaine tried to get his hand down Kurt's pants, hurried in the back stall in the local theater men's room -- something neither of them had expected, the overwhelming rush and jump into that step, and they hadn't gotten a chance to do it again and Blaine hadn't even gotten to look or take his time, but he'd been getting off on just the thought of Kurt coming into his palm, his back arched impossibly off the bathroom wall tiles as he'd bit back noises against Blaine's mouth since it happened.

"Are you just -- Blaine," Kurt says, sort of breathless, and Blaine realizes he's been sucking against the same spot on Kurt's neck for a little too long, his fingers idly stroking at the low skin of Kurt's stomach under the open button of his fly. 

"Sorry," Blaine says, tipping up and catching Kurt's bottom lip, pleased when Kurt raises one of his arms to the back of Blaine's head, pulling him forward and licking into his mouth.

It's a moment before Blaine can get back to moving his hands, sliding Kurt's zipper down by pulling at the seam, his fingers dragging against the uncovered skin he can reach until the zipper is down all the way and he's still only feeling skin underneath, not --

"Oh, shit, Kurt," Blaine says, when the realization sinks in, what the bare skin under Blaine's thumbs, caught at the edges of Kurt's fly, really means.

Kurt's head tips back against the wall. "There were already so many layers to begin with," he says, low, and Blaine groans against the line of Kurt's neck, dizzy. 

Blaine slips his fingers a little lower before pausing at the way Kurt stills, the tensing of his stomach just barely noticeable. "Just," Kurt starts, but he finishes in a little groan, his eyes closing, and Blaine reaches down with one of his hands to cup Kurt through his pants without even really thinking about it, just so Kurt has something more than air to press against when he rolls his hips up. 

"I know," Blaine says, though he's not entirely sure what he knows, just that he does, just that he's learning the simplest things tip him over the edge when it comes to Kurt. (The way he sometimes indulges in slushies at the gas station when Blaine fills up his tank, sipping them like a secret, his lips turning too-cherry red, cold against Blaine's own when Blaine can't take it anymore and has to drag Kurt into the backseat, or just has to crawl over the center cup holders and into Kurt's lap in the passenger seat. Or the way Kurt sometimes hums when they're attempting to do homework shoulder-to-shoulder, absent-minded and in a lower register than usual and something inside Blaine just curls up with want. Just like with the kilt, during the awkward minutes spent debating style and Mel Gibson with Finn while Kurt adjusted various lengths and buttons and Blaine could feel that bit of him over the edge, simply because of Kurt, regardless of anything else going on around them.)

Blaine forgets about taking his time, keeping his palm pressed up against Kurt thought his pants and tipping his own head up to kiss Kurt deeply, timing the motion of his tongue against the little rolls of Kurt’s hips. Kurt moans when Blaine curls his fingers just a little, too loud for the space between them, the sound catching in Blaine’s mouth, and Blaine hums low in his throat, stepping back all at once. 

Kurt’s eyes open into little heavy slits, his head tipped back against the wall, his mouth parted and lips slick, and Blaine shakes his head before Kurt can say anything, his hands slipping up under Kurt’s kilt and to the belt loops of his pants, tugging them down his hips. He focuses on Kurt’s face while he does it, only looking down when Kurt's boots get in the way. 

"Here," Kurt says, crouching down from the wall and bending over to slip off his boots and tugging his pants off of his ankles as soon as he can. Blaine backs up even further to watch, though still within reaching distance, and when Kurt finishes setting his boots to the side, tossing one and then turning to straighten it out next to the other as a sort of afterthought, he stands back up and leans against the wall. 

He looks -- "Shit," Blaine says, because he didn't really have a plan after this, all he wanted to do was  _see_. He hasn't really had time to see Kurt's legs before, and he feels a little silly for being so overwhelmed by a small thing, but the backseats of cars and pants barely even open leave entirely too much up to the imagination and Blaine has a very active imagination when it comes to Kurt. 

Kurt reaches out a hand towards him, not saying anything, a tiny skeptical twist to his lips that Blaine wants to get rid of. Blaine takes his hand after he takes a moment to give Kurt's entire body a slightly over-exaggerated once over that Kurt rolls his eyes at. Blaine doesn't let Kurt pull him forward when their fingers fit together, though, instead he steps close and kisses him once, quick and chaste, before falling down on his knees. 

"Blaine," Kurt says, low, squeezing his fingers. 

Blaine looks up at him and grins, feeling pleased with everything all at once; Kurt in front of him, half-hard under his kilt from earlier, the way he's looking down at Blaine, how they have a little bit of time and probably enough privacy for Blaine to do one of the numerous things he's been thinking about doing for so long. Honestly they wouldn't even have time to do the things Blaine has been vaguely thinking about just in the last thirty minutes, but Blaine has Kurt in front of him and he's on his knees, which is new, and right now he feels definitely more than pleased. 

He hums low in his throat, spreading his legs out enough to steady the pressure on his knees from the floor, since he's hoping to not stand for a while. He rubs his thumb over Kurt's knuckles where their hands are joined before taking his own hand back and reaching down to wrap both his hands around Kurt's ankles. It's so easy to drag his hands up from there, running his palms over the backs of Kurt's calves and to the crease of his knee and up his thighs, dragging his fingers back down before he gets too high. Blaine keeps doing it, too, running his hands over Kurt's legs and up under the kilt where he can't see, can only feel the softness of Kurt's inner thigh and the continuation of the fading red lines up his legs where the seam of his pants had been pressing in. 

He can't contain himself to just Kurt's legs, though, not when Kurt spreads out his stance and shivers when Blaine just lightly runs his nails down the backs of Kurt's thighs, starting high under the curve of his ass, so when Blaine drags his hands back up using his palms he doesn't stop at the crease of Kurt's knee or the soft top part of Kurt's thighs, instead reaching and palming over his ass, pressing his fingers in just a little. Kurt's hips jerk forward too quickly for Blaine to expect it and the front material of Kurt's kilt brushes up against his face before Kurt presses back against his hands. 

Blaine noses forward, leaning in and swallowing, and he briefly looks up at Kurt above him, opening his mouth to ask -- except Kurt is already nodding down at him, biting on his bottom lip like he's trying to stop the curl that Blaine can see along the sides of his mouth. 

Blaine licks his lips before he moves forward, nosing into the folds of material over Kurt's cock until he can feel it along his cheek, enough that he can turn his head and mouth against it over the kilt, groaning low in his throat when he does because, fuck, he's really close to actually having Kurt's cock in his mouth and he wasn't really expecting that for today at all. He keeps mouthing, trying to keep his lips dry and mostly closed so he doesn't ruin the material, but his mouth is sort of watering, and he's not sure if that's embarrassing or not, just that he can't help it. 

It's easy to keep kneading his hands against Kurt's ass while he moves his mouth up and down, the rhythm of it all consuming for a moment, but he drags one of his hands around to Kurt's hip and down, fitting his fingers around the base of Kurt's dick and leaning back when Kurt's hips snap forward. 

When he looks up, Kurt is staring down at him, wide-eyed with his arms pressed back against the wall. 

"Give me your hands," Blaine says, moving his own to reach upwards. 

"Why?" Kurt asks, but he doesn't hesitate in meeting Blaine's hands and threading their fingers together. 

Blaine uses both their hands to hike up the hem of the kilt, bunching it up enough that he can press Kurt's hands against his hips to hold the material up. He thinks about letting go with one hand so he can have more control when he leans into take the head of Kurt's cock between his lips, but Kurt's fingers against his own feel grounding and soft and comfortable even though his mouth feels a little awkward sliding down around Kurt's cock, need built up in the back of his throat that he wasn't expecting.

Blaine lets Kurt rock his hips just slightly up because keeping his mouth still and pressing Kurt's hips back with his knuckles is easy, letting the head of Kurt's cock slip over his bottom lip and against his tongue, slick. Kurt lets go of his hands as soon as Blaine takes him further down into his mouth, the angle not entirely right but still good, apparently good enough for Kurt to reach down and grab at Blaine's shoulders to steady himself, letting out noises Blaine has never heard from him before, his kilt falling down over Blaine's head. 

"Blaine," Kurt says after another minute, his voice so low that it makes Blaine groan around his dick because  _he_  made Kurt sound like that. "Blaine," Kurt repeats, tugging at his shoulder until Blaine leans back, the kilt sliding off over his head and back down against Kurt's thighs.

"What?" Blaine asks. He wants to press his own fingers to his lips, just to see what they feel like, slick and his whole mouth feels a little wet. 

"The bed," Kurt says, waving a hand vaguely, "I can't -- I can't keep watching you doing that in the mirror."

Blaine nods, momentarily distracted by the way the hem of Kurt's kilt is moving, the way he knows Kurt is hard and slick from his mouth underneath. He'd forgotten all about the mirror, about Kurt being able to watch, and the quick replay in his head of what Kurt must have seen is enough to make him feel sort of dazed and entirely too hard for the fit of jeans he chose today. 

"Up," Kurt says, and Blaine stands, his legs protesting when he tries to straighten them out. 

Kurt starts to head straight for the bed but Blaine settles his hands on Kurt's hips, pulling him close and reaching up with one hand to cup the line of his jaw, leaning up to kiss him. "Jacket and shirt off," he says, muffled against Kurt's lips. "Don't want to ruin them."

"Good idea," Kurt says, voice back to that low tone that Blaine never wants to stop hearing. "You, too."

Blaine has absolutely no problem with getting out of his clothes, though he doesn't want to miss Kurt taking off  _his_  shirt by pulling his own over his head, so he goes for his pants, first, only pausing when he's noticed Kurt has stopped moving. 

"Do you not want me to?" Blaine asks, quick. Kurt did only ask him to take his shirt off. 

"No," Kurt says, quickly, "yes. I wanted to watch."

Blaine laughs, fast and sudden, and instead of going back to his fly he helps Kurt carefully shrug off his jacket and get the shirt off underneath, only going back to his own clothes when Kurt is standing in front of him in only the kilt, an image Blaine never wants to forget. 

"Keep it," Blaine says, when he sees Kurt's hands move down. "Please." 

Blaine keeps his boxers on, taking everything else off while Kurt stands and watches, both of them almost jumping towards the bed after Blaine tosses his last sock in no particular direction at all.

"Hi," Blaine says, rolling over against Kurt's side, the skin of Kurt's chest cooler than his own, so much skin spread out in front of him. Kurt's kilt is rucked up a little across his side and from the angle Blaine is laying he can just see the swell of Kurt's ass before the long line of his thigh.

"Hi," Kurt says, his chest rising on a deep inhale. Blaine leans in and nuzzles into Kurt's shoulder, the urgency from earlier tapered off enough that all he wants to do is look at Kurt, all laid out on his bed, half hidden under the kilt. 

“Can I do something?" Blaine asks, not really thinking, just saying, reaching down to run two fingers over the side of Kurt's ass he can see.

"What, exactly?" Kurt asks, though there isn't much hesitance in his voice, just curiosity, pleasing to hear. 

“I,” Blaine starts, though he's not sure how to just  _say_  it. "I could just start and show you." 

“Yeah, yes,” Kurt breathes, “okay.” 

“You can tell me to not --”

“I know I can,” Kurt says. “How do you want me?” he asks, twisting over onto his side, unsure.

“Always,” Blaine says, a little without thinking. 

Kurt’s eyes close briefly, and then he’s shifting his leg to knee Blaine's thigh, laughing low and surprised. 

"That's --" Kurt starts, but he shakes his head, "how do you want me  _now_?"

"On your stomach," Blaine says, which is easier to say. He's been thinking about this, vaguely for a while and then more clearly when he'd met Kurt, even more clearly once he learned the little noises Kurt liked to make when they were together, the ones he'd learned the first night he'd started kissing down the side of Kurt's neck, unwinding the scarf around his neck and dipping down to his collarbone. 

Kurt rolls over onto his stomach, laying flat on the bed, and Blaine shifts, curling a hand under Kurt's nearest thigh. "Kneel up a little," he says, the words sticking in his throat. 

Blaine curls his free hand into a fist when Kurt moves, his kilt still falling over his ass and down against his thighs, but the angle is shifting it up so it's high enough to lay right at the start of his ass. Blaine takes a moment to inhale before he settles right behind Kurt's back in between his legs and reaches out to take the edge of the material in front of him between his fingers, starting to fold it up inch by inch until he can see all of Kurt's ass, down between his legs, and he folds the material down against Kurt's spine until it's high enough to stay. 

Blaine's never done this before, but just looking at Kurt in front of him, waiting, even though he's not sure what Blaine is going to do, it makes him want to forego any sort of warning or inquiring and just spread Kurt's ass cheeks apart with his hands and duck down to lick him open. Instead, though, he runs his hands up Kurt's thighs, just like earlier, and kneads over the softer swell of skin just above, massaging for a few moments before dipping his thumbs down and swiping one over Kurt's asshole. 

"I'm just gonna --" Blaine says, and figures it's warning enough, ducking down and just going for it, one short and wide lick between Kurt's ass cheeks, and then another, and then he presses his hands down over Kurt's ass and spreads out the skin, giving himself more room

Blaine catches himself when Kurt lets out a choked off gasp and leans away, keeping his hands where they are, staring down where Kurt's skin is wet and slick. "Okay?" he asks, the word coming out more as a groan, because he really, really wants this to be okay. He really wants to lean back down.

"Yes," Kurt says, gritty, "completely okay, please continue, oh my god." 

"Good," Blaine says, doing just that, his tongue wetter than before when he leans back in, stroking against Kurt's skin with as much pressure as he can and then variating how he licks, just like going up and down a scale, when Kurt's little gasps and sounds change. 

When Kurt starts rocking back against his face, Blaine reaches around his stomach, operating sort of blindly since he doesn't want to move his face too far away, and he's probably enjoying this too much, but he doesn't care, not with the way he can feel Kurt's thighs tense when he wraps his hand around Kurt's cock. Not with the way Kurt must lean down into the pillow, his noises short and muffled as Blaine starts jerking him off, trying to get the timing right with the movement of his tongue. 

The material of Kurt's kilt is slowly falling down his ass and back onto Blaine's face, but he can't find it in himself to move either of his hands, not the one wrapped around Kurt's cock in a loose fist or the one he's using to spread Kurt's ass. 

Blaine keeps licking at him, though he's soon done with varying pressure and teasing and just decided to go for it, his tongue flat and pressing in as much as he can. He isn't even really moving with his neck, isn't moving the curl of his fist around Kurt's dick, because Kurt is rocking back against his mouth and forward into his hand on his own, muffling his sounds into the material of his pillowcase. 

Kurt says something that Blaine thinks might be his name, lost between tiny noises, and Blaine squeezes the hand he has on Kurt's ass, letting his thumb pass over the head of Kurt's dick when Kurt rocks forward. Kurt gasps, muffled, and Blaine stills his tongue, holding it tight and moving in hard, small circles instead of long licks. Kurt's entire body tenses as he comes. Blaine can feel Kurt's stomach still against his forearm, his thighs and the line of his back, everything held tight as Blaine keeps his hand and his tongue moving until Kurt is twisting away, landing on the bed and looking sort of boneless, much to Blaine's delight.

Blaine settles down next to him, watching Kurt catch his breath and trying to catch his own, reaching down and palming himself, ready to come just from watching Kurt, but able to wait. 

“Oh, Blaine,” Kurt says, his eyes bright when he turns over on his elbow to look at Blaine, “you have a -- there’s a crease mark on your forehead.” He reaches out, rolling as he does so until half of him is pressed up against Blaine’s side and he hovers over him, a little unexpected. 

“A crease?” Blaine asks. Kurt is settling his thigh between Blaine’s legs, though, distracting, and the brush of pressure from his knee against Blaine’s dick through his boxers makes him groan and throw his head back into the pillow. 

He feels Kurt’s hand on his head before he opens his eyes again, one thumb running over whatever mark is on Blaine’s forehead. 

“From the hem,” Kurt says, pressing his finger into Blaine’s skin and settling down on Blaine’s upper thigh at the same time. “When your head was --”

“Come here,” Blaine says, quickly, reaching up to tug at Kurt’s neck. The fact that he knows it’s Kurt’s bare ass, still probably slick with his own saliva pressing down over his leg, just the thin cotton of Blaine’s boxers between them, that’s -- wow.

Kurt reaches down to palm him as they're kissing and Blaine jerks his hips up against Kurt's hand, spreading his legs out under Kurt and licking up into his mouth, surprised when Kurt groans unexpected and kisses him deeper, almost like the taste of himself on Blaine's tongue is something he hadn't considered until the realization hit. 

The way the heel of Kurt's palm feels over his cock is almost perfect, the friction of his boxers and the weight of Kurt's hand dry but enough that Blaine could definitely come soon after being hard for so long, just from being able to touch and taste Kurt underneath him. 

Kurt leans up from Blaine's mouth, eyes a little wide, and the shift in his angle lets him curl his fingers a little around Blaine through his boxers, enough for the rocks of Blaine's hips to almost settle into a slide. "Do you want me to do that -- what you just did?" Kurt asks, voice low.

Blaine turns his head against the pillow with a groan. Fuck, yes, the thought of Kurt with his forehead against the swell of his ass, his tongue, maybe with his fingers pressing into Blaine. That's definitely something Blaine wants. Not now, because he's pretty certain he'd come just if Kurt were to spread his ass with his hands and breathe, because Blaine has started thinking about that more than he ever has before over the past few weeks, and --

"Blaine," Kurt says, "simple question."

"Right," Blaine says. "Yes. Just, not right now, but  _fuck_ , yes, Kurt."

Kurt keeps looking at him, waiting, maybe for Blaine to explain or offer up another option but Blaine can't stop thinking about it, wondering a little if he could even handle it without begging or doing something that Kurt might find strange. Kurt had made noises and rocked back against his face and at the same time Blaine had felt so overwhelmed with the need to just touch and taste  _all_  of Kurt just because it was turning him on so much. 

"Just," Blaine says, laughing a little. "I'm so close, I couldn't --"

Kurt shakes his head, smiling a little, "Next time," he says, quietly, and he lifts his hand from the front of Blaine's boxers and shifts until he's between Blaine's legs, kneeling in the dip of the mattress and dragging down the waistband with his fingers hooked under the material over Blaine's hips. 

Blaine curls his toes down into the sheets when Kurt wraps his hand around the base of his cock, his thighs tensing, and Kurt has the audacity to grin at him when he has to bite down on his bottom lip to prevent himself from moaning too loudly. 

"What?" Blaine asks, breathless and caught in this throat, wanting to share in Kurt's smile. 

"You," Kurt says, simply, and he twists the motion of his hand on his next stroke, his thumb swiping over the head of Blaine's dick. Blaine reaches down and grabs Kurt's hand, fitting his own fingers around and tightening Kurt's grip, trying to hold off for just a little longer. 

Kurt has other ideas, though Blaine isn't sure what they are, only that when he manages to focus away from their hands on his dick he catches Kurt licking over the tip of his own thumb, coating it, and he's not prepared when Kurt reaches down and just  _presses_  against his ass, down against his hole with the whole pad of his thumb, and it feels so slick and cool against the heat of Blaine's skin and all he can think about his Kurt's mouth, and he comes when Kurt squeezes his dick on the downstroke, twisting his head into the pillow next to him to bite down on the pillowcase, not trusting himself to be able to stay as quiet as he should. 

"Wow," Kurt says, after a second, and Blaine wants to say something like,  _hey that's my line_ , something light, but he can't seem to connect words to his brain, so instead he takes his hand off Kurt's around his cock, too sensitive after a few pumps through his orgasm, and grabs at Kurt's wrist to tug him down onto the same pillow.

"So I take it you have no objections to this outfit beyond standing out," Kurt says after a stretch of silence during which Blaine is pretty sure he manages to coax his brain into at least recognizing basic language again. He's trying not to blink, though, because every time he closes his eyes he just sees Kurt against his eyelids, his grinning face, the way he's going to look in his outfit at prom, the way Blaine actually  _wants_  to go, and not just for Kurt, to be with him, for them both.

Blaine stretches out languidly against Kurt's side, and they should probably get re-dressed soon, considering the time and how it's probably kind of mean to have left Finn and Burt downstairs with their game and the possibility of Mel Gibson movies on demand -- okay, actually that was probably a good idea, actually -- but Blaine is comfortable and he really doesn't want to move, possibly ever.

"I was kind of thinking we could wear matching tuxes, actually, very basic, very much not liable to get me in trouble with you in the back of a limo," Blaine says, only half-serious. 

Kurt elbows him. 

"I like this better, though," Blaine amends.

"Good," Kurt says. 

"I want to go," Blaine says, shifting so his head is against Kurt's neck. "Not just for you, for me, too."

"Good," Kurt repeats, but there's a warmth in his voice that settles somewhere heavy under Blaine's ribcage, a comfortable sort of weight.

Blaine rolls over until he's hovering over Kurt, and maybe he looks a little ridiculous, just smiling down at him, and he even feels a little ridiculous when he bends down to brush his nose against Kurt's, but Kurt's hands curl against his sides, tugging him forward for a kiss (another one, and Blaine never wants to stop being able to kiss Kurt,) just as someone starts to stomp up the stairs.


End file.
